The following morning...
Saturday, June 24th, 2017
Desert Base
Northern Mali
07:15 GMT+2 (05:15 GMT June 24th)
Under Willow's expert hands, the helicopter rose smoothly into the air before the machine dipped at the nose and came around to the right, gathering forward momentum.
Willow and Freya had woken up at the crack of dawn to refuel their helicopter and launch to check out the immediate area around the fort to see if there had been any interlopers during the hours of darkness. Freya stared through a set of powerful binoculars as Willow flew at two hundred feet, slowly circling the fort in ever-increasing circles. They continued to fly until they were ten miles out from the fort, Willow then landed the helicopter and she shutdown the engines. After ten minutes, Willow restarted the engines and they lifted off. The pause had been to allow any potential interlopers to continue any approach to the fort. Willow accelerated in at speed, low over the sand, the altitude covering the sound of the rotor blades as the raced along, curving around the fort at one mile and coming around the back before coming in for a landing in front of the fort.
All was clear.
Desert Base
07:28 GMT+2 (05:28 GMT June 24th)
Stephanie Lizewski awoke to a room in semi-darkness.
All around her there were sounds; she could hear snoring, she could hear giggling, she could hear light chatter, she could hear movement. She felt tired; very tired. Beside her, she could see Abigail sitting up in her bed and rubbing her eyes. Abigail turned to see Stephanie looking up at her.
"Mornin', Stephy!"
"Morning."
"You look tired."
"I am – didn't get to bed until four."
"Go back to sleep," Abigail said.
"I suppose another hour will help," Stephanie grimaced as she turned over and closed her eyes.
Abigail pushed back the blanket and the sheet, twisting to place her bare feet onto the stone floor. Across Stephanie, she could see Jamie stirring and beyond the boy, Tommy getting to his feet. Others were stirring, having been awoken by the helicopter, just as Stephanie was. The chatter began in earnest as everyone got up, made use of the decidedly primitive toilet facilities and washed. No one forgot to check their desert boots for any unwanted, and potentially dangerous, creepy-crawlies. The day would ultimately include combat at worst, or just a very sandy hot day at best. As was usual in such situations, the childish bickering had ceased and there was a professional air to the group who ate their breakfast while cleaning their weapons and preparing their gear.
Outside, under the pale blue sky, the temperature was rising steadily as the sun rose above the horizon to a perfectly blue cloudless sky. Each vehicle was being prepared and checked. Every fuel tank was filled, and each water container was topped off and sealed. Their food supplies were checked and topped up as required. They were in the Sahara Desert where if they ran out of fuel, they would die. If they ran out of water, they would die. If they ran out of food, they would, eventually, die. Their vehicles were to be their irreplaceable lifelines, carrying all their water, food, survival equipment, weapons, ammunition, and everything else which they could conceivably need to survive several days in the desert which might include close combat during the day or night.
The desert may appear tranquil to the casual observer, but it was full of death from every quarter.
Strike Team Alpha (15)
Callsign: Sierra Alpha Command: Patrick Miller (Astute) Operators: Chloe Bennett (Shadow), Marinette Cheng (La Coccinelle), Dakota McFadden (Arbiter), Cassie Bedford (Nemesis), Lucy Ford (Piranha), Jamie Lizewski (Rage), Tommy Morgan (Splinter), Jake Bedford (Resolute), Abigail Murphy (Fury), Saoirse Hella (Foxtail), Olivia Kensington (Ajax), Scarlett Radford (Pyrrha) Technical Support: Abby Hunt (Hal), Amber Dawson (Spark)
Strike Team Bravo (14)
Callsign: Sierra Bravo Command: Dave Lizewski (Kick-Ass) Operators: Mindy Lizewski (Hit Girl), Stephanie Lizewski (Psyche), Joshua Williams (Jackal), Mathilda Lando (Leon), Eva Horton (Nox), Curtis Bennett (Trojan), Megan Williams (Wildcat), Ruth Anders (Songbird), Charlotte Perrin (Intrepid), Yvette Dubois (La Terreaur), Owen Sterling (Termino), Electra Haig (Rigour), Craig Montgomery (Stripe)
Aviation Element (2)
Callsign: Sierra Echo Command: Willow Harrison (Rampart) Crew: Freya Thompson (Obsidian)
Desert Base
09:00 GMT+2 (07:00 GMT June 24th)
The two strike teams were ready to depart their temporary safe haven.
They were leaving one of the Toyota Landcruiser 4x4s behind – suitably hidden within the fort – and only taking nine vehicles with them on the combined reconnaissance and strike mission. They had broken down into their two strike teams. Strike Team Alpha would take a Mercedes G63 AMG 6x6, two Toyota Landcruiser 4x4s and two Flyer 60 LSVs while Strike Team Bravo would take the same but with one less Landcruiser. The helicopter (Sierra Echo) would stay below the horizon from the vehicles so as not to attract attention. The flight crew had two fuel dumps to deposit, well-ahead of the Strike Teams at prearranged locations, deep in the desert. During the night, a pair of weapon mounts had been fitted in the rear of the helicopter and a matching pair of Maximi machineguns had been added that very morning – just in case.
The helicopter lifted off ten minutes before the vehicles were due to leave to give the area another delousing – just to be safe.
09:20 GMT+2 (07:20 GMT June 24th)
Twenty minutes later, the nine vehicles were thundering across the desert sands in two inverted vee-shapes.
Each vee was led by an LSV – Mindy driving one and Chloe the other; each leading their Strike Teams deep into the Sahara. Mindy was in her element, her blonde hair hidden under a sand-coloured lightweight protective helmet with her face and eyes covered by an expensive sand mask which filtered out the fine sand and protected her eyes with dark polarising lenses. Mounted on the dashboard ahead of her, an eight-inch GPS screen was located to the right of the steering wheel in the centre of the vehicle. Upon the screen, a course was detailed for her to follow which was believed to avoid unseen horrors such as quicksand, sand traps, sudden drops, and a myriad of other potential horrors which could suddenly appear in their path. Marty and Abby had compiled the route to avoid any forms of civilisation and anyone who might be able to compromise the mission.
They had many dozens of miles to cover and the trip would take many hours.
13:43 GMT+2 (11:43 GMT June 24th)
Bravo One: Dave, Eva, Yvette & Electra
The six-wheeled truck with Dave at the wheel raced up the undulating sand dune before flying into the air and then dropping back down the other side, the front pair of tyres touching down first, closely followed by the remaining two pairs.
The scorching sun above and the equally scorching sand below. It was Dave's idea of hell. Thankfully, they had air conditioning in the trucks which kept everyone cool. Looking out his side window, he could see the closest LSV as it raced across the sand, Mindy at the wheel. There was no air conditioning in the open vehicle but that caused by the stifling air as it passed through the vehicle. The gigantic bulbous tyres were perfect for use on the soft sand and rooster tails of fine sand rose from all four wheels. The vehicles four occupants were all firmly strapped in place for safety and the top-mounted machinegun was unmanned.
There was little chatter over their encrypted radios, but Mindy and Dave had talked a few times, and Dave knew that Mindy was having the time of her life at the wheel of the amazing vehicle as they crossed the deserted terrain.
Bravo Three: Mindy, Charlotte, Craig & Owen
Craig sat beside Mindy; his mind firmly focussed on staying alive.
He feared that every dune might be their last as they flew into the air on several occasions. However, he trusted Mindy's abilities – to a point – and he knew that she would do nothing to jeopardise the mission ahead, so he figured that he – probably – would not die in a sandy car crash. Behind the boy, Charlotte and Owen were not so convinced as they were bounced up, down, left and right, as they sat strapped in their seats. However, both were enjoying themselves – Charlotte especially – as the violent manoeuvres were more than exciting. Neither had ever been to Africa before, so the mission ahead was much anticipated.
Every few miles, the two strike teams would stop, about a mile apart and an LSV, two from each strike team would race off to the four cardinal points of the compass – plus or minus a few random degrees. They would drive for about half a kilometre before they would stop and someone would scan the horizon, all around, to see if they were being followed or ambushed. During that time, everyone would down a litre of water to maintain hydration, an energy bar to stave off hunger, and make a quick trip behind the largest vehicle to pee. There was very little in the way of childish behaviour – they were all on a dangerous mission – and everything was taken seriously. While on the move, they were either on watch, or they were dozing, or they were checking their weapons and kit. It was not just their lives at risk; it was potentially the entire world – no pressure!
Mindy gazed at the fuel gauge.
"We need fuel – there should be a dump around here, Dave."
"GPS says about two kay, dead ahead," Dave replied over the radio. "About five seconds the way you drive."
"Funny cunt!"
Charlotte laughed as she listened to the exchange over the radio.
14:00 GMT+2 (12:00 GMT June 24th)
Strike Team Alpha & Strike Team Bravo
Right on the money, Mindy stood on the brakes and the LSV skidded to a halt in a cloud of sand just three feet from a small stack of oil drums which sat strapped to an aluminium pallet.
The pallet had been dropped by Willow and Freya about forty minutes earlier. Quickly and efficiently, the two strike teams refuelled their vehicles, one group at a time, with small electric pumps. During the break, everyone ate, drank, and peed. Mindy and Dave studied their group, all of whom wore desert fatigues and desert boots. The girls: Stephanie, Megan, Charlotte, Eva, Yvette, and Electra looked every bit the hardened vigilantes as did the boys: Curtis, Owen, Craig, and Joshua. Mindy was extra proud of her eldest daughter who, despite only being eleven, was supervising the other members of the strike team, ensuring that everyone was drinking and eating – not to mention annoying the hell out of Megan and Eva while she was doing it.
It took about an hour to refuel every vehicle and once the barrels were empty, they were abandoned in situ, before the teams continued on their way.
16:12 GMT+2 (14:12 GMT June 24th)
Alpha One: Patrick, Abby & Jamie
A little over an hour later, Patrick stopped his Mercedes G63 truck and they all climbed out of the giant truck, jumping down onto the hot sand.
After walking about twenty feet, the trio stopped and stared at the twin steel ribbons which ran across the desert, from left to right, vanishing over the horizon in each direction. Each steel ribbon was laid parallel to the other, affixed to concrete ties, and fixed exactly 1.435-metres apart.
"The railroad comes from the west, across the border in Mauritania," Abby commented after referring to her ever-handy Toughbook. "The other end should terminate at our destination."
Beside the railroad, a hard sandy track ran almost parallel and to the north of the tracks. The trio boarded their vehicle, glad to be out of the unrelenting heat and humidity. Patrick drove the truck forwards, bumping over one rail, the ties, and then the other rail, before he turned the truck east, along the sandy track with the rest of Strike Team Alpha riding in his wake. Strike Team Bravo were a kilometre south of the railroad, guarding their southern flank. Guarding from what, they still had no idea. They had very little intel on what was out there, in the undulating sand dunes, waiting for their arrival. There could be nothing, or there could be hell. In general, it was very much safer to assume the latter and then be very pleased when there turned out to be nothing.
At least that philosophy tended to keep one alive a little longer.
17:00 GMT+2 (15:00 GMT June 24th)
Sierra Alpha (Strike Team Alpha)
& Sierra Bravo (Strike Team Bravo)
The armed force came to a stop three miles out from their objective.
The two strike teams and their vehicles were spread out to reduce the chances of being seen by any potential enemy. All of the vehicles were hull-down from their objective and nobody was moving about where they could be seen. It was time for stealth as they closed the giant facility which had arisen out of the sands before them. At first, it had seemed like a mirage, shimmering out of the evening sun. Indeed, such a facility could be seen as a mirage as it was something you would not normally find in the sandy wastes of northern Mali – nor any desert, for that matter.
The facility covered about thirty acres and seemed somewhat incongruous, located as it was in the middle of the Sahara Desert with absolutely nothing else in sight. The outlying buildings were all of hard-wearing concrete, the majority of which were two storeys and arrayed around a central eight storey building, the upper two storeys of which were all glass while the lower storeys were of concrete. The central building had a flat roof, a section of which was given over to a large raised helicopter pad which hung out over the western side of the building, while the rest was occupied by HVAC units, satellite dishes, and antennae. The outer walls of the facility were concrete and around thirty feet in height. The only access to the interior of the facility appeared to be via two pairs of giant steel doors set into the concrete walls. The metal and glasswork of the facility shone in the harsh sunlight, reflecting much back at the observing strike teams. All of the smaller buildings had flat roofs, most of which were covered in solar panels for the generation of electricity making the facility self-supporting from that point of view.
"That place is truly amazing," Patrick commented as he lay in the sand under a camouflage scrim net which conveniently matched the surrounding sand, a sniper scope to his left eye.
"Must have cost a bob or two," Cassie commented from beside Patrick, beneath the same scrim net, a sniper scope to her right eye.
"And then some," Patrick replied.
"There are several high bandwidth communication systems on the roof," Abby explained over the comms from inside her vehicle which bristled with antennae itself. "I'm detecting a lot of microwave transmissions – all encrypted, and I can't do much more than detect their presence. Suffice to say, there is a lot of activity going on down there."
"We need to figure out what the place is," Mindy commented. "However, I am fairly certain that it's not making anything good, all the way out here."
"We'll send in a reconnaissance team once it gets dark," Dave directed.
Further discussions ensued as they planned.
17:38 GMT+2 (15:38 GMT June 24th)
Bravo Two: Mathilda (Leon) & Ruth (Songbird)
An hour before, Leon and Songbird had left the rest of Strike Team Bravo, and Mathilda had taken their Toyota Landcruiser up into rocks which gave them an elevated position, about five hundred feet above the surrounding area.
From their vantage point, they could see the facility below them and about two kilometres distant. Songbird began to unpack the weapon of choice for the operation, a British Accuracy International L115A4 bolt-action sniper rifle chambered in .338-calibre Lapua Magnum. Once the rifle was securely located on the sandstone ground, on its spiked bi-pod, Songbird unpacked the ten-round magazines, each preloaded with the high-powered cartridges measuring 93.5-millimetres in length. Once everything was setup, a camouflage scrim net was laid over them both and they settled down to scan the area for potential threats. Ruth was the spotter, and it would be her job to find targets for Mathilda and her trusty long rifle.
"Something isn't right here," Leon growled.
"I can see something, in the plateau, just below Strike Team Bravo," Songbird commented, her eyes glued to the binocular spotting scope. "There's some movement where there shouldn't be movement. If I wasn't . . . no, I'm positive . . . I think the strike teams have walked into an ambush."
"I think you might be right, kid," Leon growled unhappily as she searched for a target.
It took a moment, but then she found one; only her target was targeting her!
"Sniper in the open!" Songbird broadcast across the communications circuit as Mathilda squeezed her trigger.
Almost simultaneously, Songbird saw a bright flash through her scope, and then she felt unbelievable pain.
17:40 GMT+2 (15:40 GMT June 24th)
Sierra Bravo
Hit Girl lowered her binoculars, satisfied that they had not been spotted.
Everything was normal as far as she could see – in the growing gloom of twilight, the facility was lit up from every angle and armed security guards openly patrolled around the sand track where it vanished inside two enormous steel gates. There appeared to be much less patrolling around a matching set of steel gates which closed off the facility where the single-tracked railroad entered. That could make a good entry point, she mused.
"Okay," Hit Girl announced as she eased back off the ridge. "It looks like..."
"Sniper in the open!"
Hit Girl never got to finish her sentence as she was cut off by the comms broadcast from Songbird, closely followed by the double sound of high velocity rounds exploding from their associated rifles.
Then the sound of heavy machine guns opening up echoed across the barren sands.
Five kilometres to the southwest
17:48 GMT+2 (15:48 GMT June 24th)
Sierra Echo: Rampart & Obsidian
The two girls were taking a well-earned rest.
The helicopter sat on the hot sand, the engine creaking as it cooled, while the pair inside tried to keep cool and hydrated. The older girl lay across the seats in the rear, dozing, while the younger of the pair was on watch having recently finished a doze herself, just a short while earlier. Surprisingly, the two girls had hit it off – at least, Rampart found it to be surprising as she tended not to get on with people very easily. Maybe she was mellowing, she mused with a faint chuckle. Then she suddenly bolted awake as her brain registered a familiar sound echoing across the desert sands. Rampart found herself exchanging a knowing look with Obsidian as both girls scrambled for the cockpit just as the radio crackled into life.
"Contact! Contact! Contact!"
Three minutes later, Rampart had the helicopter airborne and racing northeast as fast as the antique flying machine would go. Obsidian climbed out of her seat in the cockpit and into the back where she pulled back the charging handles for both Maximi machineguns before she connected herself to a harness so she could move freely between the two guns and not fall out of the helicopter.
Neither had any idea what lay ahead of them, but they knew that their friends were in grave danger and they had to do everything they could to assist.
"Sierra Alpha, Sierra Bravo, this is Sierra Echo, status report, over!" Rampart radioed.
Rampart made three radio calls before she finally received a radio response from the PHOENIX.
"Sierra Echo, this is November Zulu. Sierra Alpha and Sierra Bravo are in contact with multiple attackers believed to be Axis of Evil."
Rampart recognised the calm voice of Tempest.
"Your orders are to assist where you can, but things are not going well on the ground. Acknowledge, over."
"Sierra Echo is moving to assist, out!" Rampart responded.
As the daylight was fading, the gunfire was becoming more apparent, and from altitude, it was fairly easy to tell who was friendly and who was enemy below in the sand dunes. As Rampart approached, she could see Sierra Alpha to the north of the railroad tracks, on a ridge. The heavy M2 machine guns mounted on the two LSVs were spitting fire in the direction of what appeared to be camouflaged machinegun nests in the open space around the massive facility. To their right, south of the railroad and about a quarter of a kilometre from Sierra Alpha, Sierra Bravo was taking heavy fire from three directions. Again, the LSVs of that strike team were spitting fire. All around the vehicles of both support teams, prone forms could be seen firing on the enemy. M240 machineguns were mounted on the sides of the LSVs, providing additional fire.
"Obsidian, I'm going to make a pass – target the machinegun nests as we pass. I will then come about and make a second pass."
"Copy that," Obsidian responded as she lined up her Maximi out the starboard door of the helicopter.
Rampart lined up the Bell 212 and aimed directly at a point which would take them just behind a machinegun nest.
17:59 GMT+2 (15:59 GMT June 24th)
Sierra Alpha
Fury looked up from where she was feeding a belt of ammunition into an M240 machine gun.
The girl grinned as she recognised their air support gamely attacking the enemy. A deep throaty roar echoed out from the helicopter as Obsidian began to hose down the nearest machinegun nest with 7.62-millimetre bullets. There was a roar of appreciation from the entire strike team, their moral leaping two notches, as they recognised an explosion caused when the ammunition in the machinegun nest detonated – nobody escaped the fiery explosion. The helicopter came around for another pass, Obsidian pouring gunfire into another nest without an explosion, but the machinegun never fired again, nonetheless.
It was a major battle, and everyone was keeping behind something substantial and made of metal. Atop the two LSVs, the M2 Browning machineguns were being operated by Piranha and Arbiter. They were being careful and looking after their limited ammunition as they sent short and long bursts towards the enemy. Below them, the LSV was full of discarded cartridges and belt sections. Foxtail was doing her best to move the hot cartridges away from the feet of those firing the turret-mounted weapon. While most were enjoying the firefight, some were not so happy to be there. Huddled down in a corner between a Landcruiser and a Mercedes, Pyrrha and Spark were both shaking with fear. Beside them, Hal was on her tablet, looking for ways to breakout from their position. Hal was in direct radio contact with Battle Guy back in Bamako, aboard the PHOENIX, and Strike Team Bravo a few hundred metres away to the northeast.
It was imperative that they broke out from the ambush before anybody was hurt.
18:09 GMT+2 (16:09 GMT June 24th)
Bravo Two: Leon & Songbird
Songbird shook her head and winced at the pain from her left shoulder.
"You okay?" Leon demanded.
Both snipers had fired all but simultaneously. The opposing sniper was dead, a giant hole blasted through his skull. His inbound round had struck the sandstone directly ahead of Songbird, scattering sharp pieces of stone into the air. Her face had been protected by the spotter scope but several pieces of jagged stone and ripped through the scrim net and then torn into her left shoulder, leaving a bloody wound.
"Just a scratch," Ruth grimaced.
Leon checked the wound, strapping a field dressing over it, before they both got back to work.
18:27 GMT+2 (16:27 GMT June 24th)
Sierra Alpha
The firefight took a nasty twist as the darkness took hold and the enemy began to focus their attacks on the easiest target.
Unfortunately, Strike Team Alpha were the closest and the most prominent. Shadow and Astute became very aware of this change in events as seemingly ever-increasing amounts of ordnance were thrown in their direction. Bullets of every calibre, rockets, grenades, and mortars – they had it all. The armour plating on the LSVs was a godsend and so was the more limited Kevlar lining in the other vehicles. Most were hunkered down, to protect themselves from flying shrapnel as all hell broke loose and the darkness was split by bright flashes of explosives detonating. Alpha One received countless bullets, shredding the bodywork and shattering the windows. The Mercedes was abandoned with everyone sheltering behind its hulk scattering for alternate cover, all the while returning fire into the darkness beyond.
There was a bright flash of light and then a loud explosion, louder than all the rest. The anti-tank rocket of unknown origin ploughed into Alpha One, flipping the four tonne six-wheeled truck over. The wrecked truck was shattered completely as it crashed down onto the sand, a total loss. Spark was a nervous wreck, tears pouring down her face; she hated the sound of battle which was continuous and demoralising. Pyrrha was not all that far behind – nothing she had before experienced had prepared her for such horror and barbarity. She could hear every bullet as it zinged past and buried itself into the sand beyond or struck something solid with a muted thump. Then came a scream out of the darkness. Pyrrha was stunned to realise that the scream had come from behind her – a friendly had been hurt. Then had come a succession of louder zings from out in the darkness towards the enemy. The louder thud, thud, thud, thud then a yell of pain indicated that Leon was having some success in retaliation for one of their own being injured.
"Medic!" came a voice out of the darkness and Pyrrha grabbed up her satchel emblazoned with a red cross and she scrambled through the darkness on her hands and knees, moving towards the sounds of pain.
Pyrrha found a prone form behind one of the LSVs: Alpha Four. Above her, the M2 Browning machine gun was punctuating the night with its own din as giant half-inch rounds were pumped out in the direction of the enemy. A flash and a bang in the darkness indicated that the weapon was hitting something important. Pyrrha dragged her attention back from the sounds and the stench of battle to the shaking form of someone who had been injured.
"Who is it?" Pyrrha asked.
"It's Arbiter," Nemesis responded. "She took a stray bullet in her right side – no exit wound."
"Hold her steady, please," Pyrrha responded.
First aid was something the fourteen-year-old excelled at and it took her attention away from the horror all around her. With ease, Pyrrha drew a sharp blade and she cut away some of the bloody uniform and examined the wound which swam with fresh blood. A dash of water rinsed off the wound and Pyrrha stabbed the area around it with a numbing agent before going to work with a tweezer-like implement, digging around inside the wound for the bullet.
"Got it!" she declared as she removed the offending item and dropped it into her bag.
After cleaning off the wound and rinsing it with a saline solution, she applied a battle dressing and tied it off.
"You're good to go, Arbiter," she stated.
"Thanks," Arbiter grimaced as she was pulled to her feet and handed back her G36 assault rifle.
Pyrrha tidied up her kit and then went back to be a scared little field mouse.
18:35 GMT+2 (16:35 GMT June 24th)
Sierra Echo
High above, Rampart and Obsidian were doing their utmost to impede the enemy, but the helicopter was not NVG compatible and flying the machine with NVGs fitted was not an easy task for the young pilot.
The pair had had much success during their hour over the battle zone, but the realms of probability were closing in on them and before they knew it, someone hit the jackpot. A stream of gunfire struck the Bell helicopter, the first bullets shattering the breech of the starboard Maximi and injuring Obsidian who fell to the cabin floor, screaming in agony. Other bullets pounded the underside of the engine bay which was Kevlar lined to prevent a damaged engine from inflicting damage on the crew cabin. However, the Kevlar held against the first few bullets, but then gave way and there was a loud thump and several of Rampart's gauges went haywire and a klaxon sounded. Rampart was horrified. She had a wounded crewmember as well as a wounded helicopter and she could not help both.
Reasonably, Rampart retired, heading north at forty knots as black smoke belched from the engine housing atop the crew cabin and Obsidian screamed in pain.
..._...
After thirty minutes of flight, Rampart set the helicopter down in a deserted {I know, sounds redundant!} section of desert.
Once she had shut down the turbines and all the electrical items, Rampart unstrapped and jumped out of her seat. Rushing around to the crew cabin, she grabbed the worryingly quiet Obsidian and dragged the fourteen-year-old girl a good forty metres away from the helicopter before setting her down on the sand.
"Did we crash?" Obsidian hissed between clenched teeth.
"I do not crash!" Rampart growled in response. "Now, what was all that damn screaming about?"
Obsidian glared at Rampart.
"I don't scream!" Obsidian countered. "Shrapnel from the Maximi got me in the chest."
"Worried your boobs are damaged?"
"No!"
Rampart helped Obsidian to sit up and then remove her combat jacket. Both girls sighed with relief as they saw that Obsidian's body armour had stopped the shrapnel, if not the force of the impacts.
"Ow! My boobs are gonna be bruised for fucking weeks!" Obsidian moaned. "God, that chopper stinks!"
"I think a bullet may have hit something important," Rampart understated.
"You think!" Obsidian responded, holding out a gloved hand to Rampart.
Rampart laughed as she hauled her friend to her feet and they both returned to the smoking helicopter.
18:50 GMT+2 (16:50 GMT June 24th)
Sierra Bravo
The ambush had come as a rude surprise to Hit Girl.
Everything had then gone south, very fast. Her people were fighting for their lives and some were injured. Somehow, they had erred badly, but she knew that they were fighting a serious organisation who, like her, were determined not to come in second. It was the top of the podium or nothing for them both – gold at all costs. Between Kick-Ass and Jackal, the three of them had developed a plan to provide assistance to the embattled Strike Team Alpha. Trojan and Stripe were currently manning the M2 Browning machineguns mounted in the LSVs and inflicting heavy damage on the enemy as Kick-Ass and Jackal drove the vehicles through the darkness without lights, relying on NVGs to find their way across the sand to strike at the enemy who appeared to be adept at stealth and camouflage. Hit Girl considered that the enemy were fighting on their home turf and would have had a long time to prepare defences against an attack.
It was imperative to provide a distraction so that Sierra Alpha could breakout, back into the relative safety of the desert over which they had already driven.
18:50 GMT+2 (16:50 GMT June 24th)
Sierra Alpha
The two LSVs of Sierra Bravo were moving in between them and the enemy.
Everyone prepared to board the remaining four vehicles and prepare to retire into the desert. Astute was beside himself with anger. Angry at having been caught out and ambushed. Angry that he had lost a valuable vehicle. Angry that he had wounded. Angry that he was pinned down. Angry that he had lost control of the situation. However, from his training and experience, he knew that operations often went to shit with events occurring beyond your control. Therefore, he galvanised his strike team into action, as Sierra Bravo provided interference.
"Come on! Move!" Astute bellowed, counting his people aboard the remaining vehicles.
He, Hal, and Rage had been displaced when their vehicle had been destroyed, so they hitched a ride aboard Alpha Three with Nemesis and Spark.
"Hi, Sparky!" Rage grinned as he slid in beside the troubled girl.
Spark was still getting used to having the 'Americans' around – even if some of them were actually Brits, like the annoying boy sitting beside her. She did not raise to the bait, ignoring him completely. The convoy moved off rapidly with an LSV ahead and one at the back. The two LSVs from Sierra Bravo ran interference, drawing fire as Sierra Alpha retired from the ridge above the facility and turned southwest towards perceived safety.
Nobody liked to retreat, but as the saying by Oliver Goldsmith went:
'He who fights and runs away
May live to fight another day;
But he who is battle slain
Can never rise to fight again.'
It was a quote by which Hit Girl lived.
18:59 GMT+2 (16:59 GMT June 24th)
Bravo Two: Leon & Songbird
"I'm down to my last few mags – you got any more lined up?"
"I'm almost out of Lapua – I'll go get another box from the Toyota."
Songbird jumped up and ran back to the Toyota which was parked a dozen metres or so away from their sniper perch. In hindsight, she should have expected it. Their perch was in a very predictable location and eventually, someone would be sent up to investigate. Songbird heard the crunch of boots on loose sandstone in time to draw her fighting knife and catch her attacker in the thigh, ripping open the carotid artery on her first strike. The man went down with a scream of pain, dropping his weapon with a clatter and scrambling to staunch the flow of blood. There were two other men, and both emerged from behind the Toyota, assault rifles raised.
Songbird reached for her pistol, but not before there was a sharp crack as a single bullet cut through the night air.
18:59 GMT+2 (16:59 GMT June 24th)
Alpha Four & Alpha Three
The incoming bullets struck the tail-end-Charlie LSV with immense force.
Two large containers of water, stored in the back, exploded, spraying Piranha with water. The veteran fighter continued firing the M2 Browning heavy machinegun and the unexpected soaking of water was not exactly all that undesirable considering the situation. But what was undesirable was the continuous bombardment on their convoy. Someone had it in for them, and that someone was determined to destroy Sierra Alpha in any way that they could. Piranha was also acutely aware that they were more than a third of the way through their stock of 100-round M2 Browning ammunition boxes which was going to become a big problem if they did not break free of their pursuers very soon.
Foxtail, at the wheel of the bouncing LSV was doing her best to keep up with the Alpha Three Toyota Landcruiser ahead of her as it jinked from side to side to avoid incoming fire. Everyone aboard was very unhappy with the situation, but they were making the most of it as they did what they could to keep up morale and fight back. They had all been in tough, barely winnable situations before, but somehow everything felt distinctly different and some felt that hope was beginning to drift away from them into the darkness of the unrelenting desert which spread out in every direction.
The enemy were coming after them in several off-road vehicles, primarily American-made HMMWV military vehicles but with a smattering of German-made LIV(SO) vehicles. All were armed with various nasty weapons which included the M2 Browning heavy machine gun, M60 medium machine gun, and the Mk19 forty-millimetre grenade launcher. That combination was not good to be facing, however, with the assistance of the Sierra Bravo LSVs, the Sierra Alpha convoy was making progress as it dodged incoming bullets and grenades. He grenades were not much fun as they plunged down into the sand around the vehicles, exploding with violent white flashes. One grenade came very close to Alpha Two, causing the rear windows to explode inwards, showing everyone inside with shattered glass. La Coccinelle was driving and she struggled to maintain control on the loose sand as the large vehicle fishtailed on the loose sand.
Then everything took a very nasty turn as a massive onslaught against the strike teams began.